


Livin' La Vida Mocha

by narcissablaxk



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffeeshop AU, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, Riddles, The Coffeeshop AU literally no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 00:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14200790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: Ed works at a coffeeshop where you do not provide a name for your order - you answer a riddle. As annoying as it is, Oswald becomes a regular.





	Livin' La Vida Mocha

The coffee shop couldn’t have been open more than fifteen minutes before Oswald ducked in. The sun was barely peeking between the skyscrapers outside; even the typical traffic noise seemed muted. Still, the smell of espresso was strong, and people seemed to be moving with purpose in here. Chalk that up to the caffeine, he shrugged, his eyes quickly scanning the menu before he stepped up to the counter. 

“Good morning, welcome to Livin’ La Vida Mocha, how can I help you?” 

Was that _really_ what this place was called? Oswald squinted at the barista, a tall, lanky man with a green sweater vest. Out of pride, he considered leaving; surely he could not bear to buy coffee from a place with a name that ridiculous. 

But he was exhausted, and the mere idea of having to walk another block to find a Starbucks was just too much effort. He sighed. “Can I just get a latte, please?” he asked. 

“I fly without wings, I cry without eyes. What am I?” 

It was far too early for this. Oswald pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and sighed. “ _What?_ ” he asked. 

The man was holding Oswald’s cup with the marker poised. “I fly without wings, I cry without eyes. What am I?” 

Oswald blinked incredulously. “Is that a riddle?” 

The man simply tilted his head and waited for the answer. Oswald glared past his hands, one holding his precious cup that should be filled with coffee already, and focused on the man’s name tag. Ed. 

“Listen, _friend_ –”

“A cloud,” a redheaded girl at the nearest table chirped, holding her own plastic cup of what looked like green tea. “The answer is cloud.” 

“Very good, Miss Pepper,” Ed replied, scribbling the word on the cup. “Listen for your riddle,” he confided to Oswald, and turned toward the newest customer. “Welcome to Livin’ La Vida Mocha, what can I make for you?” 

***

Against his better judgement, Oswald returned to the coffee shop with the unfortunate name a few days later; the Starbucks a block away had a dreadfully long line, and he was already late for work. He had no choice, really. 

The tall man was wearing a brown sweater today, emerald green collar poking out of the top, the sleeves rolled up. He looked marvelously comfortable and Oswald, in his dark blue and purple suit, felt overdressed and uptight in comparison. 

“Welcome to –”

“Please don’t say it,” Oswald held up his hand. “It’s far too early.” 

“Living La Vida Mocha, what can I make you?” Ed finished, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. 

Oswald sighed heavily, his eyes closed in exasperation, and heard Ed quietly huff a laugh. “Just a latte, please,” he answered. 

“What has a heart but no other organs?” Ed asked, his hand poised over the cup again. 

“Can’t you _just_ put my name on the cup?” Oswald pleaded. 

“Tut tut, so sure you can’t answer a simple riddle,” Ed replied with a raised eyebrow. “Come now, I think you’re far smarter than you give yourself credit.” 

Oswald raised his eyebrows. “My intelligence isn’t an issue –”

“Then answer the riddle.” 

“I don’t want to –”

“But you could,” Ed leaned closer, over the counter, as if fascinated by Oswald’s reticence. “Right?” 

Oswald took a half-step back, away from his probing gaze, and looked around the sparse shop. “Everyone that comes here answers the riddles?” he asked. 

“Oh yes,” Ed shrugged. “I generally use pretty simple riddles for new customers. I have special ones for regulars.” 

Oswald stared at the man across the counter, an expectant smile still on his face. He really thought Oswald was just going to play along with this bizarre riddle fiasco? Absolutely not. He was far too important, and had far more coffee options - the cuckoo clock behind him chirped suddenly, eight times in quick succession, and Oswald realized he was especially late for work now. 

He groaned. “Fine, fine, what was the damn riddle again?” 

Ed grinned. “What has a heart but no other organs?” he repeated. 

Oswald furrowed his brow while he contemplated the question. A heart but no other organs? A…Valentine’s day card? That couldn’t be it. A heart…transplant? He let his eyes land back on Ed, who was still grinning at him. 

What if he gave the wrong answer? Oswald fretted silently. Would he not get his coffee? Would he look like a fool in front of Ed? Both options were terrible. 

“Do you give up?” 

“ _Of course not,_ ” Oswald snapped. 

The bell on the door jingled, and Ed turned his gaze to the newcomer. “Ahh, Miss Pepper. Your usual?” he asked, his voice completely devoid of the same chipper tone he reserved for Oswald. 

“You know me so well, Eddie,” the redhead from the other day was back, her deep orange coat buttoned all the way to her chin. She cast her eyes about the room, catching Oswald on her final sweep. “You came back,” she acknowledged. “Has he answered a riddle yet?” she asked Ed. 

“Not yet,” Ed confided as if Oswald couldn’t hear him. “But I have hope.” 

“Hit me, then,” she said, leaning on her elbow. 

“Alright,” Ed smirked, grabbing her cup. “I fall but I don’t get hurt, I pour but I’m not a jug, I come before the word bow but I’m not hair, I help plants grow but I’m not the sun, I can make you wet but I’m not a bath. What am I?” 

The woman Ed called Miss Pepper rolled her eyes. “Oh come now, Eddie. Rain. You’re rain!” 

“Very good,” Ed praised, scribbling the word on her cup and setting it on the counter. He turned back to Oswald, who had forgotten to ponder the riddle and instead watched the exchange closely. “Need help?” 

“No.” 

“You look like you need help.” 

Oswald huffed. “I don’t need help.” 

“What has a heart but no other organs?” 

“I know the damn riddle,” Oswald snapped. “I just – don’t – wait…” he paused, trying to ignore the smile that was spreading across Ed’s face. “A deck of cards?” 

“Correct!” Ed was far too giddy for this early in the morning. “For answering your first riddle, you win a larger latte,” he said, dropping the cup back onto the stack and grabbing a larger one. "Listen for your riddle.” 

***

Despite his best efforts, Oswald subsequently became a regular at Livin’ La Vida Mocha, and his latte was suddenly a daily luxury, the days punctuated only by the riddles Ed gave him. 

“What can you hear but not touch or see and yet control?” 

“Your voice.” 

“What flies without wings?” 

“Time.” 

“What has cities but no houses; forests but no trees; and water but no fish?” 

“A map.” 

The riddles were simple enough. Oswald finally felt like he was getting proficient at answering them; he came in every day ready for a riddle that would stump him. Ed said that when someone became a regular, he made riddles especially for them, but his riddles stayed simple. Perhaps Ed didn’t think he could answer a difficult riddle. 

He came in on a Tuesday, determined to answer a difficult riddle. Ed was wearing his green sweater vest, Oswald’s favorite. He smiled at it, and looked up at Ed. He had gotten quieter the more Oswald came into the shop; perhaps he was just getting used to him. 

“What has four legs –”

“Give me a harder riddle,” Oswald interrupted him. 

Ed paused in his delivery, staring at Oswald over the rim of his glasses. “What?” he asked. 

“You heard me.” 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and in the silence that followed, he pushed his glasses up his nose and surveyed Oswald critically. Oswald wondered if he was coming up with a riddle on the spot; he squirmed uncomfortably the longer the silence stretched. 

Finally, Ed cleared his throat, catching Oswald’s eyes with the sound. “They have the power to entice, an exploration of their depths will never suffice. They are the subject of all romantic lines, and come in black, hazel, or blue shades. What are they?” 

Oswald swallowed thickly. “Eyes,” he answered quietly. 

“Very good,” Ed said, writing the word on the cup. 

***

It wasn’t until a few days after that (the riddle answers were “favor,” “smile,” and “dreams”) that Oswald realized that Ed probably didn’t know his real name. He never had the opportunity to give it to him for his coffee order, and while Ed had a name tag, Oswald never did. He wondered how long it would take Ed to ask. 

“At the surface or within, it has the power to woo you and win. For Keats it was joy forever, if you have it, it will get you favors.” 

“Beauty,” Oswald answered readily. 

His coffee was on the house that day.

***

He was greeted with an unusual sight when he arrived the next day. Instead of Ed behind the counter, Miss Pepper (whose first name was Ivy) was standing there, a resigned smirk on her face. 

“Ed’s sick,” she said before he could ask. 

“You work here?” 

“ _Clearly,_ ” she said, indicating her light blue apron. 

“Are you going to give me a riddle?” Oswald asked tentatively, his whole routine disrupted by this sudden change. 

Ivy shrugged. “You drink a latte, right?” 

“Correct.” 

She picked up the cup and looked up at him. Oswald, who was now accustomed to answering a riddle for the name on the cup, stared at her. 

“Name,” she prompted. 

“Oh. Oswald,” he said. She scribbled it on the cup and set it on the counter. As he turned to sit at his usual table to wait, her voice called him back.

“I do have a riddle for you,” she said. 

“Okay,” Oswald said tentatively. 

“When are you going to ask Ed out?” she asked. 

Oswald spluttered, surprised. “I – well – um –” he paused, trying to regain his composure. “Was that the riddle?” 

“Riddles are Ed’s thing,” she admitted. “I’m more of a direct question person. I find posing riddles to the guy you like that all relate back to romance is a little bit of a crap shoot when the object of my affections is _incredibly dense_.” 

“I am _not_ dense –”

“Really?” Ivy asked dryly. “Did you have any idea Ed was hitting on you before now?” 

Oswald’s mouth went very dry. “Uhhh…” 

“Dense.” 

“Look, I don’t appreciate being insulted –”

“Well, the guy who is fond of you is out sick, so I’m afraid you have no protection,” Ivy shrugged. “Seriously, ask the poor guy out before he spontaneously combusts.” 

Oswald wrinkled his nose. “There’s no way Ed likes me,” he argued. “I’m –”

“Well dressed, good looking, obviously employed, and allows him to make stupid riddles all day,” Ivy rattled off easily. “Probably not a serial killer, but I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt on that one.” 

“He doesn’t even know my name,” Oswald protested. 

Ivy picked up his cup and waved it at him. “He will as soon as I text it to him,” she said shrewdly. “Ask him out.” 

“And what if I don’t like Ed like that?” 

Ivy rolled her eyes. “If you didn’t, why do you keep coming back here? Our coffee is not that good.” 

“Well –”

“Besides, if you didn’t like him, you probably would have led with that,” she said, capping his latte with a decisive click. “Here.” 

***

Ed was back the next day, his eyes a little tired, but otherwise normal. He perked up when Oswald opened the door, the little bell announcing his arrival. Ivy, sitting at a seat in the corner, glanced up when she saw him enter, and raised an eyebrow when he gave her a nod. 

Great, now he had an audience. 

As Ed was picking up his cup, Oswald held up his hand. 

“I actually thought I’d ask you a riddle today,” he said, trying not to look at Ivy, who had leaned forward in her seat, unabashedly watching. 

“Go ahead, Oswald.” Hearing his name come out of Ed’s mouth was surreal; Oswald had just accepted that he would never learn his name. 

“Okay…” Oswald hesitated, trying not to peek at the scribbled riddle on the note in his hand (just in case he got nervous and forgot it). “I am a tested formula of love, an inevitable part of love stories. Romantic dim light and good food are my friends. I never go out of trend. What am I?” 

Ed considered the riddle for a moment before smiling. “A candle light dinner.”

“I have reservations at 8,” Oswald supplied. “It probably won’t be candle lit, but figuring out a riddle where the answer is ‘date’ is very difficult, so –”

Ivy, in the corner, dropped her head into her arms, trying to hide her giggles. 

“It sounds fun,” Ed interrupted. 

“Wait, seriously?” Oswald asked. 

Ed just grinned again, writing the words on the cup. “Pick me up at 7.”


End file.
